


A supernatural week

by VenezuelanWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baking, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Bonding, Case Fic, Day At The Beach, Family, Family Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Grocery Shopping, Laundry, Missing Moments, Team as Family, tfwbigbang2019, they have LIVES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-27 21:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenezuelanWriter/pseuds/VenezuelanWriter
Summary: Seven days, two hunters, one angel, one nephil (yeah, you read that right), the need to celebrate Cas’s birthday, a case to catch The Flash (say what?) and a bunch of everyday life moments that we didn’t know we needed.





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [irrationallyexcited](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrrationallyExcited/pseuds/IrrationallyExcited/works) and [CR Noble ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble)for beta reading this for me. You two are amazing and turned this into the best version of itself. 
> 
> And, just as importantly, this would't be possible without the wonderful art [MidnightSilver](https://midnightsilver.tumblr.com/) created for this!! Thank you so much again ♥ go give the [masterpost on tumblr](https://midnightsilver.tumblr.com/post/187951146080/im-really-pleased-to-be-able-to-share-my-artwork) some love!!

Sam’s back hurt like a bitch. In fact, that was the one thing waking him up.

It was easy to forget that he and Dean were getting actually older every day, and that maybe they had to delegate some cases to younger, more agile hunters. They weren’t kids anymore.

It wasn’t like he had a choice, though. That fight with last night’s Djinn was a rough one but if he hadn’t arrived in time, it would’ve killed Dean.

Sam straightened on his bed, grunting in pain. He checked his phone –it was 6 a.m. At least he slept more than his usual three hours.

After letting his legs slide to a side, he sat on the edge of the mattress. Maybe Cas’s grace could do the trick and make him feel better. Or, if Sam was lucky and the Men of Letters were as eccentric as they appeared to be, they maybe had an old but functioning massage chair or something similar enough.

Although, now that he thought better about it, the pain was a good excuse to practice some yoga. God knew he wanted to try it.

♦️

Cas entered through the bunker’s main door as quietly as possible, considering it was 4 a.m. and Sam and Dean, maybe even Jack, were still asleep.

He returned from a walk around Lebanon’s streets, something he did to relax himself and rest. When he had his wings, he’d go to temples, gardens, one of the seven wonders or to some small town where he could connect a little more with humanity.

Now, he couldn’t visit those places but he didn’t complain, either. He liked the life he had.

He heard noise in the kitchen.

As he stepped in, he saw Jack. He was eating a hot dog.

“Hey, Cas,” he said before taking another bite.

“Hi, Jack,” Cas replied. “I’m not gonna tell Sam or Dean about this.”

“I think since I process food differently, there’s no actual harm in this. But until I’m sure of that, I’d appreciate it.”

Cas offered a smile. He took a seat in front of Jack.

“Where were you?” Jack asked.

“Just walking. It helps me rest.”

“I’ve thought about doing that: going to cool places when I can, know the Earth, but… by myself, it doesn’t sound like fun.”

“I could join you if you asked. There’s a very nice city in Africa, Nairobi. One of my favorite places in the world.”

Jack looked up from his meal, looked at Cas, then smiled.

“I’ll finish this and then we’re off.”

♦️

Sam left his bedroom, feeling renewed after his YouTube yoga lesson, to a delicious smell emanating from the kitchen. He imagined that maybe Cas had gone out to buy something. He definitely didn’t expect to see his brother, out of the three other people that lived there, wearing an apron, standing in front of the stove, cooking.

“To what do we owe the miracle?” He greeted.

“Are you kidding, man?” Dean turned from the pan and gave him an incredulous look. “We’re done with Michael, we have no big bad wanting to end the world, we got occasional hunts, I’d say this is the peak of our lives.”

Sam snorted.

“I guess you’re right. What are you cooking?” He peered over Dean’s shoulder.

There was something frying in the pot but he couldn’t make out what it was.

Dean pushed him back, trying to block his view.

“Don’t spy! It’s a surprise,” he said, tone as serious as ever. “In fact, take a seat. I’d like to talk about something with you.”

Sam arched his eyebrows for a moment. He obeyed, sitting at the table.

“I’m all ears,” he said. “What is it?”

“I was thinking, you and I have birthdays, even Jack does —May 18—, but what about Cas?”

“You’re worried about Cas's birthday?” Sam asked, disbelieving. “I don’t think Cas has even stopped to consider-”

“Think about it! It’s unfair he doesn’t get a celebration of life and growth and-” Dean shut up when Sam’s bitch face #15 —the _ this is funny but stop giving me bullshit _ one— was set. “Ok, yeah, and it’s a good, nice excuse to do more of this kinda thing, y’know? Family things? It’s nice to be able to celebrate all of our birthdays, that’s all.”

“Okay, that I’m buying,” Sam said. He leaned over the table with his hands over it. “So, unlike Jack, he wasn’t born. He was created —Before calendars as we know them existed, which means that even if we asked him, he probably doesn’t have an answer to when his birthday is.”

“Then we just invent it,” Dean said easily. He turned around and extended his hand. “A plate, please.”

Sam reached for one in the rack and handed it to Dean.

Dean served him, then gave Sam the dish back.

There were four semi-circles of fried dough. Sam took a napkin, grabbed one and bit it. It was stuffed with shredded chicken.

He moaned at the taste.

“This is amazing!”

Dean smiled as he fried more of those. Deep down, he knew Sam loved greasy food.

“Thank you.”

“So, were you saying we should just arbitrarily declare Cas's birthday?” Sam asked, mouth half-full.

“Why not? It’s symbolic, right?”

“What’s symbolic?” Jack asked, walking in the kitchen with Cas following behind.

“Hello, Sam. Hello, Dean.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Hey, guys,” Dean said. “I’ll answer that in a second,” he told Jack.

Sam was about to ask about it when Jack announced:

“We went to Africa,” he said, simply like it was just going to the grocery store.

“Awesome,” Dean answered.

“What part?” Sam asked.

“Nairobi,” Cas said. “We brought you food.” He put a couple of paper bags on the table.

“See?” Dean said, looking at Sam. “You two are just amazing.”

Dean peeked inside one of the bags. It didn’t smell as good as what he was cooking but he wouldn’t complain.

“Jack, you gonna eat that or do you want to try my empanadas?”

“Try them,” Sam said, nodding vehemently.

“I’ll have two, yes,” Jack said.

Dean served Jack a plate, then one for himself. He sat at the table, turned to Cas, who wasn’t eating anything, then said, “It’s a shame you can’t try this. It’s Heaven, man.”

Cas would’ve made a comment, something about Heaven not being as great as the saying implied, but understood the euphemism and didn’t reply to it.

“I miss eating, too.”

“So, Sam and I were thinking,” Dean said. He paused, all eyes focused on him. “Sam, we were saying?”

“Oh, okay,” Sam said. “Dean and I were thinking about celebrating-“

“About the _ need _ to celebrate,” Dean corrected.

“About the need to celebrate,” Sam continued, “your birthday, Cas.”

“My age is relative. I don’t age as you do and although my vessel is showing signs of-“

“It’s symbolic,” Dean protested.

Cas sighed.

“I like the idea,” Jack said.

“You really don’t have to, you know that, right?” Cas said.

“We want to. As Dean says, it’s an excuse to do something nice for you, and for all of us.”

“We could go to Africa again,” Jack suggested.

“Or to a restaurant, like normal people!” Dean said with a grin.

“Whatever you want, Cas,” Sam said. “I think we’re all good with not having normal lives, so why not celebrate a supernatural birthday, right?”

“Okay, yeah, well, I’ll let you do it. It’s, in fact, a good reason to distract us. We’ve earned it.”

“Great. So, as one of your best friends and the soul you saved from Hell, I declare that your official birthday is on… “Dean held up a finger, grabbed his phone from his pocket, checked the calendar app, “Friday.The 27th”.

“That day is the anniversary of Gary’s death,” Sam said.

“Gary?”

“The fish from my childhood.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, then Saturday, the 28th”.

“I believe I read that’s the National Mourning Day in a village in a Caribbean island,” Jack said.

“Okay! What about Sunday? Any complains about Sunday?” Sam and Jack shook their heads. Dean finally turned to Cas. He didn’t say anything. “Good. Sunday it is.”

After breakfast, Jack and Cas left to get Jack some clothes. Dean and Sam would’ve gone, but a) they knew it was the closest thing Jack had to father-son time and b) they had their own stuff to do.

“What are you going to do today?” Dean asked, washing the dishes and passing them to Sam.

“I was thinking about staying in. You?”

“Me too, actually. I’m probably gonna binge something on Netflix. I’ve heard Cable Girls it’s pretty good.”

Sam tried not to look too impressed.

“I’ve got a few books to read I’ve been dying to get into. For a change, they’re not about lore.”

“Coelho shit?”

“You’re gonna watch Cable Girls but I can’t read The Valkyries?”

♦️

“What about this?” Jack asked, leaving the fitting room.

Cas frowned. Jack was wearing an oversized leather jacket and sunglasses. He shook his head.

After trying a lot of other things Cas wasn’t convinced of —a Hawaiian shirt too bright even for his angel eyes, outdated wooden scarfs, that thing Cas thought was supposed to be a diving suit— Jack finally walked out the curtain with something familiar enough.

A plaid overshirt, white round neck t-shirt underneath, simple jeans that didn’t show too much skin on the knees.

“Winchester enough?” Jack asked.

Cas smiled fondly. 

“Now you’re only missing the boots.”

Jack’s bare feet danced on the floor.

“Next stop: a shoe store.”

♦️

Sam was never as grateful for the second-hand set of couches they bought as he was when he sprawled on the biggest one to finish his book that night.

Dean was in his cave, starting the second season of Cable Girls, Cas was in his bedroom admiring Renaissance paintings on his laptop, and Jack was in other of the smaller couches, using his tablet.

After an hour or so of shared quietness, Sam’s reading was interrupted.

“Sam, I think I found us a case.”

“Yeah?” He finished the sentence he was reading, grabbed his MetroCard bookmark, and closed the book.

“Look.” Jack left his place on the couch and kneeled next to Sam, handing him the tablet. “Police reports read that ‘a lightning streak’ robbed a gas stop.”

Sam played the security cameras video. In less than two seconds of footage, a streak of lightning moved through hallways of the small store and left.

“This happened in Vernal, Utah,” Jack continued to explain.

“It’s definitely a case,” Sam said, replaying the video.

“Yes. People are talking about aliens, superhumans, all kind of stuff online about it.”

“I’ll let Dean and Cas know. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”


	2. Tuesday

It was still dark —5 a.m. dark, to be precise— when Team Free Will 2.0 took off to Utah. 

Dean threw his duffel in the trunk and thumped it shut.

“You ready to catch Barry Allen, guys?” He said, getting behind the wheel.

“I prefer Jay Garrick,” Jack said.

Sam frowned.

“Wally West is the best version of The Flash! I even love what the CW did with him.”

“In Greek mythology, Zeus gave Hermes winged sandals to ensure the rapíd delivery of his messages,” Cas said. “He was named the messenger of the gods as a deal with Zeus after he was taken to trial for stealing Apollo’s oxes.”

“Thanks for sharing with the class,” Dean said.

He gave Sam a black bag that was hidden under the seat. It was filled with tapes.

“I thought ‘driver picks the music’?” Sam said, already checking the names on the cassettes.

“They’re _ my _music. If it’s in there, then it’s good.”

Sam rolled his eyes. His first choice was: Best of the ‘70s.

⬧

They were two hours and two tapes in, when Africa, by Toto started playing.

“Oh, man yes!” Dean said, turning up the volume. “Had it stuck in my head since you two came back from there.”

“What does it mean?” Jack asked Castiel on the backseat.

Sam and Dean were singing with all their might. Cas could even tell Dean was fighting his urge to close his eyes and feel the song even deeper.

“I don’t think it has to mean anything at all.”

_ I bless the rains down in Africa… _

By the end of the song, the Impala rolled down the road with all windows down and four singing souls inside:

_ I bless the rains down in Africa… _

“The only sighting of The Streak, as people are calling it, was that one,” Sam said. He looked thoughtful. “How do we even know he hasn’t left town?” 

“It could be a she, you know.”

Cas ignored Dean’s commentary. Partially.

“If they don’t want to be caught, I don’t think they’ll go suspiciously missing after all of this started.”

“Why robbing a convenience store?” Jack asked. “I mean, he could do a lot more than that.”

“He’s right,” Sam said. “Why stopping there?”

Dean shrugged.

“Maybe it was a test run. It was just his first sighting, he’s probably figuring out what else he wants to do with the speed.”

⬧

“Any thoughts on your birthday yet, Cas?” Dean asked, meeting eyes with his friend’s in the rearview mirror.

Cas's gaze went to the road. “Not yet, Dean.”

“I vote for the beach,” Dean said. “Chuck knows it’s been a while since this pretty body has seen the sun.”

“I want to visit the beach,” Jack said. His grin was wide and bright.

“It’s a peaceful place,” Cas, who had obviously never gone to the beach, said.

“The ocean it’s peaceful,” Sam said. “The beach? Not so much.”

“We can go to an island,” Dean said. “Jack could take us, right?”

Jack nodded.

“There are sharks and other dangers, Dean,” Cas said.

“What do we got our guardian angel and nephilim for?” Dean replied.

“If you end up in the guts of a great white shark, I won't be able to heal you.”

Sam giggled.

“Okay. Fair point,” Dean grunted. “Not an island. But we don’t have to go the most crowded California beach either.” Sam glanced at him. “Kids playing with sand all over the place, too much noise…”

“Agree on that,” Sam said.

“I believe we need to focus on the case,” Cas said.

“But,” Jack said, “as soon as we’re done, you don’t help to avoid the subject.”

“Deal.”

♦️

“You know,” Sam said, not too long after the island-slash-sharks debate ended. “We’ve been using the word ‘nephilim’ incorrectly.”

Cas frowned, ducked his head, and noticed Dean’s face doing a confused expression as well.

“What,” Dean said, “the thing is not what they call a half-angel, half-human? Or is it that there’s a word for half-archangels, half-humans specifically?”

Sam chuckled. “There’s no such specificity. The thing is, ‘nephilim’ is plural for ‘nephil’.”

“Really?” Jack asked. “That’s so interesting! I’m a _ nephil _.”

“I didn’t know, Sam,” Cas said. “Where did you learn that?”

“A novel,” Sam answered.

“Of course it was a novel.”

Sam continued, “By Madeline L'Engle. It’s pretty amazing, Cas. You would like it.”

Cas nodded kindly. “I appreciate the recommendation.”

“Now novels are the new lore,” Dean said, just teasing. “Nephil,” he repeated quietly, as the four fell into silence again.

♦️

“Play it again, play it again,” Jack said.

Sam was about to repeat it when— 

“No more Africa for today, kid,” Dean said. “I think thirteen times is enough.”

“Bryan Adams?” Sam asked.

“Please.”

♦️ 

They arrived at 6 p.m. in town. Before working hours were over, they still had some time to use.

Sam and Jack went into the gas station to talk to the owner, hoping she’d have valuable information that could help them track the speedster.

As they entered the small shop, they spotted her behind the counter.

She was a redhead that reminded Sam of Charlie. She was shorter, though, and less pale.

Sam imagined how well she’d get along with Jack and couldn’t help the nostalgia creeping inside of him.

“Evening, Ms. Henderson,” Sam greeted her. He showed his badge and Jack did the same. “We’re agents Harper and Nelson and we’re investigating the case of the ‘very fast man’.”

“X-Files?” She asked, winking. Her humor even _ screamed _Charlie. “I’m sorry. A lot of people are worried but I’m just glad that he didn’t hurt anyone, and secretly hoping he decides to be a superhero.”

“Do you have any reasons to confirm he was a male?” Jack asked.

She nodded.

“It doesn’t look clear enough on the surveillance footage but he wasn’t wearing a hoodie. His hair was probably dark brown or black and he’s probably just as tall as you are,” she said and pointed at Sam.

“That’s very helpful, Ms. Henderson,” Sam said. He turned around and tilted his head to the aisles. “Do you mind showing us what he took?”

“Of course,” she said, already walking from behind the counter. She guided them to where the cookies were. “I believe the only things missing were four of these,” she handed Jack one of the bags.

“Bite-sized chocolate chip cookies?” Jack read from the plastic.

Sam also eyed the bag, thinking about how every time they learned something new, The Streak only seemed more stupid. "He looked at Charlie’s freaking clone and smiled politely. “Thank you very much for your time.”

“Anytime, agents.”

He returned the bag to the shelf and left with Jack. Maybe Cas and Dean were having better luck.

♦️

There were only two listed witnesses on the police report besides the owner of the gas stop, and talking to them was Dean and Cas’s job.

Dean didn’t actually think it would be helpful, but after confirming both people only noticed the lightning and the air whoosh, he was frustrated.

"That's two hours of my life I'll never get back," he said, climbing into the Impala.

Closing the passenger door, Cas commented, “He did give us interesting insights.”

Dean frowned, looking over at his friend as he turned on the engine. “On what? His shopping list?”

Cas tilted his head. “Well, that wasn’t actually helpful.”

“Dude, he’s a single parent and his name is Bob. The only relevant thing he said was that his 10 year-old daughter doesn’t like boybands.”

Cas scoffed.

“Yeah. Now we go for dinner?”

“Hell yeah.”

♦️

They reunited again in the motel room —Dean wasn't used to such a fancy one: two queen beds, separate spaces for the beds from a small ‘living room’— and ate fast food, doing research.

“Bless you for taking the time to scan all of those books, Sammy,” Dean said, scrolling down on his tablet.

“Hey,” Jack said, “he got help.”

“I think I’ve got something,” Cas said, taking away the opportunity for Dean to reply to Jack. All eyes focused on Cas. He silently reread something on the laptop screen. “Yes, here I’ve found a spell that grants the ‘power of velocity’,” he said, adding air quotes.

“Is there really a spell for everything?” Dean said.

“Apparently,” Sam answered.

“I wonder where’s the one that makes me rich,” Dean muttered.

“What does the spell require?” Sam asked.

“Energy. Lots of it,” Cas said. “One million joules exactly.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard to trace,” Jack said. “Right?”

Dean turned to Sam.

“No.” He brushed his hair back and leaned on the uncomfortable chair. “That’s equal to the kinetic energy a ton vehicle would have moving at a hundred miles per hour.”

“God, you’re such a nerd.”

“I believe we’re a—” Cas threw a hard glare at Dean. “—tired. We should start fresh tomorrow from here.”

Sam stretched and stood up.

“Yeah, you’re right Cas. Let’s call it a night.”

“‘Night,” Dean said, walking to one of the double sized beds.

He didn’t want to know how the receptionist paired the four of them, but he was happy it meant that both he and Sam had so much space (and Jack had the couch. He couldn’t complain.) 

Sam went to the bathroom to change, while Dean quietly undressed to his briefs and undershirt sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t throw a party while we’re out,” Dean said to Jack and Cas over his shoulder, finally resting his head on the pillow and drifting off to sleep.


	3. Wednesday

Sam woke up before Dean, as usual, surprised to see the sun was already out.

He hit the bathroom, washed his face, and combed his hair back with his fingers, trying to get it in order.

“Morning,” he muttered as he left the bathroom, still sleepy.

It was only directed to Cas, since Jack was asleep on the couch.

“Hi, Sam. Here,” Cas handed Sam a to-go coffee mug from a cardboard tray. “Jack and I got them like an hour ago.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, sipping from the foam. “Any luck?”

“I think so.” Cas grabbed a newspaper from a pile next to him. “A stand a few blocks away sold us all the papers from the week. Here:” He pointed at the page he showed Sam, “four days ago, there was a blackout in the whole city. If that energy was directed somewhere else-”

“It could’ve been enough to make the spell work,” Sam finished.

“Exactly. One more thing,” Cas added. “Jack kept reading about the spell last night. Its effect wears off depending on the amount of energy used on it. Meaning we don’t have to break it but wait until the speedster needs a recharge.”

Sam nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

♦️

“Okay, but what if when we find him, it still hasn’t worn off? He hasn’t killed anyone but he might!” Dean protested.

Sam shook his head, exasperated.

“It would be useful to find him in the first place.”

“Sam’s right,” Cas offered. “Dean, why don’t you and Jack go to the power generator facility, and we’ll stay here to see how to stop him, if necessary?”

Dean sighed, looking over at Jack.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s keep on teaching you how to be a Fed.”

♦️

“Remember, be chill,” Dean said, closing the car door.

Jack arranged his tie and suit.

“Be chill,” he echoed.

They walked in the office. Dean did a general scan of the place in a second. Jack walked straight forward to the counter of the receptionist, a young and scrawny man.

“We’re here for the surveillance footage,” he said. “Bro.”

_ Holy shit. _ Dean had to be more careful with the way he phrased things for that kid.

He showed off his badge.

“I’m agent Mendes. This is agent Colt.” At least, Dean thought, that made Jack show his fake badge as well. “We’re here about the blackout a few days ago.”

The receptionist frowned.

“The feds are here about a blackout?”

“We’re thinking it may be connected to The Streak,” Dean said. “Now, as he was saying, if you could show us the footage, please.”

“Follow me.”

Dean stopped Jack with a hand on his chest. When the receptionist wouldn’t hear, he said:

“Forget what I said. Don’t be chill.”

♦️

Sam looked up from his laptop. His eyes were flickering with an idea.

“What?” Cas asked.

“Do you think Jack can control the temperature of things? Like, let’s say, blood?”

“He did surprise us all when he made Lucifer tell the truth the other day. I believe there’s a chance.”

“I think I know what to do.”

♦️

“Hey, Sam. Put me on speaker,” Dean said. “We’re looking for Dylan Montgomery. He tampered with the footage from the facility but not from the streets. You figured something out?”

“Yes, but we need you to bring Jack back. We’ve got to do a few trials.”

Dean arched his eyebrows.

“We’re on our way.”

♦️

“So get this. I was thinking. Kinetic energy is produced by particles moving really quick, which makes them produce heat, right?”

“Right,” Dean agreed. “I guess.”

“So if it’s very very cold, particles can’t move.”

“Okay, now you’re watching a lot of television.”

“It’s science! Jack, could you willingly alter someone’s body temperature?”

“I don’t know.”

Cas put a steaming hot coffee cup in front of Jack.

“Try to make it cold.”

Jack extended his arm and directed his palm to the cup. He closed his eyes and frowned slightly.

He opened his eyes after a few moments. They were golden.

The cup started emanating more and more steam, and in a matter of seconds the coffee was completely evaporated.

“Awesome,” Dean said, with blurred sarcasm on his tone. It was surprising, really, but the opposite of what they needed.

♦️

Sam and Dean went for lunch and left Cas trying to train Jack in the motel room.

With a pizza slice in hand, Dean looked at Sam.

“What if Dylan’s recharging right now, in a neighbor town? I mean if he’s not at his place by the time we go… we could be chasing him forever.”

Sam shook his head.

“Listen, I’m sure Cas and Jack will have figured it out by the time we get there. After that, it’ll be all over soon.”

Dean stalked Dylan on his phone.

“No wonder why the guy found that spell,” he said, passing his phone to Sam.

“A little bit of a hardcore fan, huh?” Sam said, sliding through the posts and photos in Dylan’s Twitter profile.

He was, to say the least, obsessed with The Flash.

♦️

Jack closed his eyes again, palm over the seventh coffee cup. With any luck, he wouldn’t evaporate that one too.

“Focus, Jack,” Cas said. “I have almost no change left for the machine.”

Jack nodded.

“I think I’ve got something in mind that’ll help,” he said, then concentrated in that one thing.

The cup on the table stopped steaming. Cas was surprised as it slowly iced and even cracked at the end. He grinned.

“Yes, you did it, Jack!”

Jack opened his eyes. He was cheerful and excited, holding the paper cup in hand.

“What were you thinking about?” Cas asked.

“Frozen.”

♦️

Dylan wasn’t home when they searched the place.

“He must be recharging,” Sam said.

“No shit, Sammy.”

Dean drove them to the facility as fast as he could without getting another speeding ticket. It was stressful but nothing he wasn’t used to.

Dylan was chanting a spell with the breakers in hand when they arrived.

“Jack!” Cas screamed.

“Yeah,” Jack said, rushing to stand in front of Dylan and directing his hands towards him.

“You’re not gonna stop me,” Dylan said. “I’m gonna become a hero and everyone will love me!”

Lighting was sparkling over his arms but a wave of blue and white came from both of Jack’s palms.

“Now, Sam!” Jack said.

Dean pointed his gun to Dylan’s chest, just in case, while Jack closed his eyes in focus and Sam put Dylan anti-spell cuffs.

Jack stopped his newest trick and sighed. Considering how powerful he was, Dylan wasn’t much colder than chill.

“Now what?” Cas said.

“Now we take him to the police station,” Dean said.

He pulled his phone out from the pocket of his overshirt and tapped on its screen a few times.

When he tapped play, Dylan’s recorded voice said, “ _ You’re not gonna stop me. I’m gonna become a hero and everyone will love me! _ ”

“Freaky fans, just… ugh.”

♦️

“I don’t know about you guys but I miss home,” Dean said, opening the motel room door. “I say we pack and take turns driving.”

“Even me?” Jack asked.

Dean frowned. He did quick math in his head, considering it was only fair all of them drove for the same time —they were all tired— and wondering if he was okay with driving for 4 hours.

“We’ll see.”

Sam walked to the bathroom, getting his toothbrush.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Cas too,” Dean said. “I'll drive the first leg.”

♦️

As Sam’s turn was over, it was Cas's time to drive. He’d insisted on being the single person driving the 12 hours of road after Dean’s first hour in —after all, he didn’t need to sleep— but, as he’d expected it, his offer was declined.

The car was silent, no mixtape playing and only Dean’s occasional snores filling the air.

That was until rain began to pour down on them and the noise of water pounding against metal kept Cas company as he drove his family back to the bunker.

At least Beethoven’s 9th Symphony played in his head the whole while. He felt that melody deep inside his grace. 


	4. Thursday

It was 7 a.m. by the time Castiel parked the Impala in the bunker’s extensive garage.

Dean was sleeping in the passenger seat, and Sam and Jack were doing the same in the back.

“We’re home,” he said.

Judging by Dean’s snort, he had to be louder. Or maybe try something different.

“Damn it, I think I just scratched the paint!” Cas said, almost in a mutter.

Dean’s eyes snapped open.

Cas snorted.

“ _ You _ ,” Dean said, between a growl and an amused tone. He composed himself in his seat and opened the passenger door.

Since Jack and Sam were still sleeping, he knocked on the window.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauties,” he said.

Jack woke up, finally tapping Sam’s arm and making him open his eyes as well.

“We’re here,” Jack said.

They all left the car in silence, still too tired to do anything else.

♦️

Dean woke up after noon, well rested.

He went to the kitchen to have breakfast, finding Jack already having his lunch. Cas was keeping him company.

“Where’s Sam?” he asked.

“Doing laundry,” Jack answered.

“Right. I’m glad he never forgets to,” Dean said.

As he grabbed a plate from the rack and opened the industrial fridge to look for some cheese, he notices dirt and dust all over the surfaces.

“Hey, Jack, would you mind helping me clean out the bunker today?”

“Of course not. It sounds like fun.”

Dean smiled and titled his head to a side.

“I’m glad you think so.”

♦️

When Sam returned from Stanford, living with Dean was sort of a challenge. At least actual cohabitation problems were reduced by the neverending motel room routine. Until they got the bunker, of course.

Who did what chores, especially, was a delicate issue.

Sam was stuck with doing laundry but he traded it for ever doing the dishes. He was rather satisfied with the deal.

Although his and Dean’s clothes sometimes were similar —the flannels, especially— it wasn’t hard to tell what was whose. Dean owned all the band shirts, most flannels were Sam’s, and the unicolor shirts he knew who they belonged to based on the size.

Sam smiled to himself, passing the bundle of grey and black clothes from the washer to the dryer.

Not that he had been thinking about it but an idea for Cas's birthday gift popped up in his mind.

♦️

Jack, using his angelic force, moved one of the giant shelves of the library.

Dean swept around where it used to be.

Jack returned the shelf to where it belonged, picking it up and moving it.

“Can you do that thing with your mind where you move things?”

“Sure. What do you want me to move?”

Dean passed his index finger over the space left between the books spines and the shelf border. It was left powdery black.

“Let’s move these books from here while I pass a cleaning wipe over this.”

“Okay,” Jack said.

He took a step back, then two. He took a deep breath and looked at a portion of the numerous books on the shelf. They slowly slid forward, to remain floating a few inches away from their previous position.

“That’s awesome,” Dean whispered.

As he passed the wipe to take the dust away —and as he had a visual orgasm in the process— a loud  _ thump  _ made him turn around.

The books were scattered on the floor. None seemed damaged, but they were no longer in the order that they were supposed to be.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “I got distracted.”

Jack looked down.  _ Let it go _ still echoed in his mind.

“But Sam and I sorted this together,” he added. “I can put them back like they were before.”

Dean sighed.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

♦️

Jack was cleaning the kitchen racks while Dean cleaned the banister of the bunker entrance. Passing a cloth over the furniture with some cleaning product he’d found, he realized he was missing a familiar weight on his jeans pockets.

“Sam?!” Dean yelled. “Have you seen Baby’s keys?”

♦️

It apparently was cleaning day and Castiel wouldn’t stay behind. It’d rained the night before, and Cas knew Dean well enough he was mortified his car was dirty.

The fact that he was too tired and now busy cleaning the bunker didn’t mean he wouldn’t make time to wash his car.

So, Cas would just save him the trouble, given that he had nothing better to do and showing gratitude was something he enjoyed.

Dean liked doing this himself but the surprise would be worth it.

♦️

“What’s that smell?” Dean said, walking into the kitchen.

“Waffles,” Jack answered

“I found a waffle maker in the garage,” Cas explained, turning to stare at it with a shy smile.

“Dinner’s ready, Sammy!” Dean yelled.

Sam got to the kitchen and they all sat in the table.

“You know,” Sam said, mouth half-full with a fluffy waffle in his mouth. “It doesn’t make sense. That you cook so well, without liking food.”

“I’ll take the compliment, I guess,” Cas said. “By the way, Dean,” Cas reached in his trench coat pocket and put the car keys on the table.

Dean’s eyes widened.

“Did you take her out for a ride?” He asked, sounding like a parent whose sixteen-year-old was being hit on by someone he didn’t know. “I mean, it’s good man, but next time-”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted softly. “I washed it,” he explained. Then, after a small sigh, “I mean,  _ her _ .”

Dean’s features changed into relief and contentment.

“Oh. Thanks, buddy. You find a waffle maker, you cook, you wash my car, we should have stay-ins more often.” He turned to look at Sam. “What did you do, huh? Just washed my clothes?”

Wrinkles formed on Sam’s forehead.

Punctuating every word, he answered, “I found  _ panties  _ in your jeans and I wasn’t going to say anything about it, but since you asked.”

Dean blushed.

“Not mine, obviously,” Dean said, avoiding the three set of eyes on him.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Jack said. “Actually, the other day I saw a very interesting video where-”

“Jack,” Dean cut, warning. “Don’t.”

Sam just beamed.


	5. Friday

Four men. Two of them grown-ups, one that needed fuel like a plane, another that didn’t count as much as he didn’t eat.

Still, they were out of in everything that wasn’t canned food, Jack’s favorite cereal, flour and booze. Dean didn’t find any sense to it.

After breakfast, he set his mind on going to a supermarket and making sure he filled the fridge properly.

“Wanna join me, Cas?” He asked. “Going to buy us real food.”

“Sure.”

“Tons of it,” Dean muttered under his breath, passing by Cas.

♦️

In the frozen section, Dean took his time to pick things up.

He scanned different brands, sizes and kinds of frozen pizzas, while Cas quietly accompanied him holding the cart.

“I thought you said real food,” he said casually.

“Hey, I’m picking up meat and chicken in a sec. It’s just, y’know, for the times when I don’t feel like cooking.”

♦️

“Hey, Jack,” Sam said, knocking on the kid’s door and peeking his head inside.

“Sam!” Jack smiled, taking off his earphones. “I’m watching a very good movie. It’s called Pulp Fiction.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a very good one.” Sam offered a warm smile. “Anyway, I was gonna ask you for help to organize another box of books I found. But-”

“No, don’t worry,” Jack said, already closing the laptop and raising to his feet. “I can watch it later.”

“Great. Thank God, because there are more than a hundred books in the library waiting for us.”

♦️

“What’s Jack’s favorite, again?” Dean asked, bewildered at the hundred of different cereal boxes in front of him.

“Uh,” Cas frowned too, “Frosty Bites?”

“Someone’s not winning father of the year,” Dean said, although he accepted Cas's answer and put the box in the cart.

“I’m not-”

“Aren’t you?” Dean asked, incredulous.

Cas rolled his eyes.

“If anything, we’re all his parental figures.”

“Oh, no, Sam and I are the cool big brothers. You’re the weird guy in the midlife crisis that does dad jokes.”

“Midlife— Dean, I’m millenia old. Of course I make dad jokes. Also, does that mean you see me as a father figure?”

First, Dean’s brain pinned the fact that Cas, all in all, knew what dad jokes were. Then, he felt his stomach tying in a knot.

“Fuck no,” he hissed. “Okay, cool uncles. Happy?”

Cas's only reply was to nod and giggle. Dean took his chance to change the subject.

Moving down the aisle, going to the “just add water” mixes section, he asked:

“We’re still celebrating your birthday, alright?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“You’re right. Wrong phrasing.” Dean stood in front of the mixes and contemplated them. “What I meant was: how do you bake a cake for someone who doesn't eat?”

“First, you don’t make it with those. Their molecules are even more…” he  _ cringed _ . “Strange,” he finally said.

“Artificial flavors and preservatives ain't yummy,” Dean said, moving past the aisle without getting any mix in their cart. “C’mon, we’ll pick up the freshest ingredients to make a cake for you on Sunday and some things I need for a Tasty recipe.”

Cas followed Dean, pushing the cart.

“What’s Tasty?”

♦️

On the library floor, around Sam and Jack, there were the box and multiple old-looking books: yellow pages, dusty covers, titles in fonts too difficult to understand.

“Put this with the Witchery ones, please,” Sam said, handing Jack a book.

Jack piled it on top of other five books.

“This goes to Archangels,” Jack said mimicking the process.

“Another Bible duplicate,” Sam said, throwing the book a few feet away from both of them. “How many copies of that thing did the Men of Letters own?”

“So far,” Jack stopped to think of it for a moment, “Fifteen.”

Sam huffed.

“The other day,” Jack said, making small talk, “I saw a tutorial on how to deal with a car fire. More of a step by step guide, actually. And another one about restoring your lawn.”

Sam gave him a confused look.

“I don’t know, it seemed useful. I really like that webpage.”

“Which one?”

“WikiHow.”

Right. That page. The one where you could probably find the instructions to frame someone of murder, or to cheat on SATs, or who knew, to start World War III. Thank God Jack was a good kid.

“Sam?” Jack asked, shaking Sam out of his thoughts. “You know the page?”

“Of course, yeah.” He was quiet for a moment, then: “You can probably find anything there. We should do a version for hunters or something.”

Jack gave a small laugh.

They fell into silence for a minute or so. Sam was already focused on organizing one of the thematic piles in alphabetical order when Jack spoke again.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something? The Internet confuses me, I don’t think Castiel can help me a lot with it and Dean is so hard on me sometimes…”

Sam could see where the conversation was leading —tutorials, accumulated curiosity, Castiel couldn’t help with it —how did he end up being the one that had to give him the talk?

“Sure, anything.”

“Is there a way to prevent onions from making you cry?”

Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

♦️

“I thought it was  _ one  _ Tasty recipe,” Cas said, a little annoyed after the third time going through the supermarket.

“I got a whole playlist, sue me.”

♦️

At 6:30 p.m., Dean and Cas were finally back in the bunker, which had a full pantry and fridge.

Sam went for beers in the kitchen and returned to the now pseudo-living room with one for each of them.

They didn’t know Cas and Jack would end up carving their initials next to Sam and Dean’s on the library table.

“Just ‘C’?” Cas asked, looking at the squared letter on the table.

“You could be an honorary Winchester,” Sam offered.

“Or Kline,” Jack said.

“No,” Dan said. “I mean, beauty in our family is that Cas is a damn angel, no last name, and he still belongs. So… yeah, I vote for just C.”

Cas gave Jack the pocket knife.

He carved ‘JK’ underneath Sam’s initials and returned Dean the knife.

“Huh,” Sam said. “You’re only missing the ‘Rowling’.”


	6. Saturday

To Dean’s surprise, Sam was sleeping over the library table.

He felt tempted to play a prank on him, maybe something like the stupid sticky notes he put on his back too long ago. Instead, though, he chose to jump scare him. Because that was the kind of thing he had to do as the big brother.

“Sam!” he yelled, using his hands on Sam’s shoulders, too, for added effect.

Sam jolted awake.

“Jerk!”

Dean shrugged, taking a seat next to him.

“Bitch. You didn’t go to sleep last night?” he asked.

“Jack and I stayed up late watching Lord of the Rings.” He grabbed a book from his lap and showed it to Dean. “Then I really felt like rereading the whole thing.”

“Not surprised,” Dean said. “I found a case,” he added, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

“Oh.”

Sam followed Dean into the kitchen.

“Yeah. Easy one, though.” He grabbed a pan and turned on the stove. “Vengeful spirit like two hours away. I was thinking of going with Jack so you stay here preparing stuff for tomorrow.”

“Right,” Sam agreed. He looked in the fridge for yogurt, then in the pantry for granola. “Thanks for this, by the way.” He shook the box. “Kind of addicted to it already.”

Dean snorted.

“I know a thing or two about your alarmingly healthy eating habits.”

Sam poured himself a bowl of yogurt with cereal on top while Dean fried a couple of eggs in the pan.

“So, about tomorrow,” Sam said. “What do you got in mind?”

“Do I look like the Pinterest kind of guy?”

“You’re the Tasty kind of guy. So maybe, yes.”

“Did you use my laptop without my permission again?”

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored Dean’s question.

“Where are we going? The beach?”

Dean sighed. He flipped over his frying eggs.

“California is like a day away by car. We wouldn’t make it before Monday.”

“Dude, you’re  _ ambitious _ . There are beaches around here, you know?”

“Bodies of water. Not the same.”

“What about Houston?”

“Could work. Half a day away. We leave as soon as Jack and I are back?”

“Could be.”

♦️

Sam knew he liked to make fun of Dean for his cooking abilities but wasn’t much better himself.

He was in the kitchen, trying to find something appropriate for the occasion, while Cas was… he didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. It wasn’t actually important as long as he didn’t accidentally spoil his own surprise.

Horrified at all the complicated ideas suggested by Pinterest, he chose to review the recipes of all baked goods on a web page for culinary beginners.

Cookies, biscuits, pies… nothing seemed of his interest (and capabilities) until he considered cupcakes. The mix was almost impossible to screw up if he followed the instructions thoroughly, and there was a lot of less pressure on having to decorate them.

A plain cupcake? Acceptable. Plain cake? Not so much.

Besides, they were also way easier to carry in the car. 

God, he hadn’t even stopped to think about having to carry whatever he prepared on the car. It shouldn’t be too traumatic to hold a box of cupcakes during the ride.

Right?

♦️

They had already been on the road for an hour when George Harrison played through Baby’s speakers.

“I heard a song on the radio the other day…” Jack said. “I think you would’ve liked it.”

“What was the name?” Dean asked, actually curious.

“Empathy for the Devil?” Jack guessed.

“Sympathy for the Devil! A classic. Of course I like it. I’ve taught you well.”

“Although there’s this female singer that I really like too. Her name is Taylor Swift.”

Dean snorted, remembering the time when he actually couldn’t help but liking  _ Shake it Off  _ —against his will! He’d been turned into a teen by a witch, who could blame him?

“You’re such a millennial, kid.”

♦️

Sam decided to bake the cupcakes later. He assumed it was better if they were as fresh as possible.

So, after gathering the ingredients on the counter —he read something about all of them having to be at room temperature for better results—, he left for the library to wrap what would be Cas's gift. 

It was small, but meaningful, it would be an amazing joke and it was simply  _ fun _ .

Sam didn't bother to look for wrapping paper in the bunker. To replace it, he used an old map he hoped didn’t turn out to be important in the future.

He was just done writing  _ For Cas _ with a Sharpie on it, when he heard the angel himself approach.

Sam, as quickly as he could, put it on his lap underneath the table and pretended to be studying one of the other maps he’d grabbed from the archive.

The scissors and tape could’ve given him away but they didn’t.

“Anything of interest on there?” Cas asked, taking a seat next to Sam.

Sam stopped to read at least the title of the map. It was of the Netherlands old quarters of the Men of Letters.

“Nah, this is all outdated,” he said.

♦️

Dean and Jack worked the case of a kid’s ghost. He’d died in a swimming pool because the coach wasn’t there to help him when he drowned. Now, he took revenge on all swimming coaches, whether they deserved it or not.

They went to the kid’s home and talked to his devastated mother. There, they confirmed the story and found out what they’d done with the remains —since it’d been a kid, the obituary in the papers didn’t mention it. 

“It’s a tragedy,” Jack said.

Dean, still after everything he’d seen, couldn’t agree more.

“It is. But now he’s gone rogue and we’ll fix that before another innocent dies.”

♦️

By 4 p.m., Sam returned to the kitchen, ready to start baking.

First: preheating the oven. Done.

They didn’t have a whisk (what a surprise!) but his arms would serve just fine. And if he could beat demons with them, but not mixing a damn cake, he was going to be very disappointed.

He grabbed a bowl that seemed big enough for the mix to fit and put the first ingredient: the butter. He whipped it until it was creamy, just like in the video. Then he added the sugar, the eggs one by one, the vanilla and lemon zest, the milk and flour —alternating them. The arternating part seemed to be important— and in 20 minutes, give or take, he was done.

He tried the mix, licking it off the fork he used to beat it, and it was amazing. Just the right amount of sweet, with a small touch of lemon, and with no lumps in sight.

Now he just had to bake it.

Only then he realized he didn’t have cupcake moulds.

Damn it.

♦️

With Jack’s grace, digging the grave seemed like a kid’s game. Dean missed the times when he could do it just as effortlessly.

Although it wasn’t nice at all seeing a corpse of a child and the smell of the burning body wasn’t especially not-disgusting, they still had appetite.

Because hunting monsters and making sure they don’t show up at the very last minute to kill you is exhausting.

Before returning home, they stopped in a diner for some food.

Jack ordered the same burger as Dean.

Dean had to admit that Jack was earning a representative place in his heart sooner than he’d expected him to.

“Ready for the beach tomorrow, Jack?” Dean asked, halfway through his burger.

“Yes!” He drank for the straw of his soda. “I can’t wait.”

“God, me neither. We’re leaving as soon as we get there so we can be there tomorrow morning.”

“Cool. Do I need anything specific? I haven’t had the chance to look up anything.”

Dean smirked.

“A swimsuit would come in handy.”

♦️

“We’re home!” Dean called as he walked through the bunker door. Jack followed behind. Cas and Sam gathered in the war room.

“Dean bought me a swimsuit,” Jack told them. “It’s salmon.”

Sam frowned.

“I did him a favor, it looked great on him,” Dean said. “You guys are ready?”

“About that, Dean…” Sam said. “I’m gonna need to have a word with you.”

They were, by then, down the stairs. 

Sam led Dean down the kitchen. 

“I improvised.”

Apparently, at the lack of cupcake moulds, he’d greased the silicon tray and baked them directly there. Now they had a bunch of naked cupcakes. 

“Nah, Sammy, they look fine. It’s more than I thought you’d manage.”

♦️

They’d packed and left. 

They had booze, food, the box with the cupcakes, Sam had his gift, Jack had his swimsuit —and made one magically appear for Cas— and they had, to start on the road,  _ Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx  _ tape on. Because, of course, sentimentalism.

“Looks beautiful, doesn't it?” Jack said from the backseat.

The sun was setting at the end of the road, the sky was a mix of orange, red and shades of blue, and they all had to agree with him.

♦️

The next tape was Cas's choice, since he was the future birthday guy and all.

It was, besides, still in Dean’s repertoire: the tape name was  _ What came out right from the 90’s _ .

“You really didn’t have to do all this, you know?” Cas said, with Zombie playing in the background.

“Do we look like we’re going against our will to you?” Dean said.

“Will I have a birthday party to celebrate my second year?” Jack asked.

“You know,” Sam said, speaking for all of them, “let’s take this opportunity to state that if anyone else asks, Jack’s 22. 23 next May.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, hitting the pedal just a little more. “Now just shut up and enjoy this.”

_ What’s in your head, in your head…  _

♦️

“It’s 11:57,” Sam said, locking his phone afterwards. “You excited?” He asked, directed to Cas.

Cas smiled, finally seeming to get in the birthday mood.

“Yeah. I’ll just be incalculably older by one year and I think that’s great.”

“It is, man,” Dean said. “It is.”

“I wanna say something,” Jack said. “I wanna thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Cas didn’t reply right away. He sighed and looked content. His eyes did through the rear view mirror, at least.

“You’re family Jack. Always have been.”

“No chick-flick moments,” Dean said.


	7. Sunday

“Happy birthday!” Sam cheered, once his clock marked exactly midnight.

“Thank you,” Cas said.

“We should all sing Happy Birthday, right?” Dean said, immediately turning off the radio.

He got the Scorpions tape out and started.

“Happy birthday to you,” the three sang. Cas didn’t know where to focus his gaze. He even seemed human. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday-”

“Castiel-” “Cas-” “Sunshine-”

“Happy birthday to you!” They finished.

“Time for cake yet?” Dean asked.

Sam grabbed the cardboard box sitting between them and handed each of them a cupcake.

“This is what smelled so nice,” Cas said, taking it.

“I hope it’s good,” Sam said. “Followed the recipe step by step.”

“We forgot the candle,” Dean muttered, taking a bite of his cupcake. “Next year you’ll make a wish. Promise. Mm!” He moaned suddenly, tasting the cupcake.

“This is actually very good,” Cas said.

“It’s amazing, Sam,” Jack also complimented.

“Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

♦️

“Almost forgot about it,” Sam said, grabbing the wrapped gift for Cas from his duffel. “Here’s your gift. For special occasions, I guess.”

“Wow, aren’t you a sweetheart,” Dean said.

Cas accepted it and arched his eyebrows.

“Wow. You really didn’t have to.”

“Open it,” Jack said, tone cheerful.

It was a plain, purple tie.

Cas loosened his blue one, took it off and knotted the purple one around the collar instead.

“How do I look?” He asked.

Dean checked in the mirror.

“Alien,” he bit. “But good. Festive, even.”

“I like it,” Sam said. “Do you?”

Cas looked down on himself, holding the tie and then checking on the mirror in the front seat.

“I definitely do.”

♦️

They took turns driving so none of them actually had to arrive asleep to the beach.

When they got to Texas, they rented a motel room near the coast, checked-in, and changed into beach clothes:

Sam had a black loose tank top, with his aquamarine boardshorts over the knee.

Cas was sporting a blue-ish rounded-neck tee, and the trunks Jack got him, navy blue.

Dean wore a Hawaiian style shirt —_ “what? I miss the beach!” _— and red trunks.

At last, Jack had his salmon trunks and a white shirt much like Cas's model. 

♦️

They arrived at the beach. The four of them topped their outfits with sunglasses and Jack, even, with a fedora beige hat.

Dean had the cooler box full of beers, Jack a bag of snacks, Sam had a book to read under an umbrella, and Cas had the portable chairs.

Walking around the beach, sun hot above them, the energy was light, and joyful, and perfect.

“I love the sand,” Jack said. 

Because of his angelic grace, his feet weren’t burning on the steaming brown particles.

They settled around 20 feet away from the shore; Sam planted and opened the umbrella and Cas set the four chairs in different places with different shaded areas.

They sat, Dean got the beers, and they toasted:

“For another 300, 350 million years of good life, man,” Dean said.

“And,” Cas answered, “for you all to join me for as long as possible.”

♦️

Jack sat on the shore, where the sand was wet and flexible.

“Wow!” A toddler, she must’ve been 5 or 6, approached Jack. “How did you do that?!”

Before him, there was a very detailed sand castle: it had windows, a gate, dragons, and a tower.

He giggled.

“With lots of patience. Here, let me help you,” he said, then helped her, with a touch of magic, to build one of her own.

♦️

Dean and Castiel were under the umbrella. Sam and Jack, behind them, where playing ping pong.

“Oh my God,” Dean said, looking over his sunglasses.

Castiel didn’t need to turn around to know Dean was checking a woman out.

“Cas! Did you see that? She winked at me,” he said proudly. “And I’m not even shirtless.”

Castiel just gave him a fond smile.

♦️

“One day, Sammy,” Dean told him, walking down the seashore. “One day we’ll retire, and maybe move to some island. We’ll have this every day.”

“You really don’t believe that and you know it.”

The water met their feet when the waves covered the shore.

“No, I don’t. But that’s what we deserve.”

♦️

Castiel had been to so many places, lived through so many eras. He’d known God, witnessed the creation of the universe, seen how it became what it was in present day, and… yes, he was sure he’d never been as happy as he was with the Winchesters and Jack.

They’d given him what he’d never had before: identity, purpose and a sense of _ really _belonging.

Enjoying the beach, the people, listening to the waves, drinking beer, eating cupcakes, later ordering fried fish and eating with his family: that was what he called life.


End file.
